Archive for August, 2014

Roots

Tuesday, August 19th, 2014

God works in mysterious ways! I have always wondered why my father had such a love of the deep South, particularly Georgia I grew up hearing the songs of Steven Foster. On my left shoulder is “Swing low, Sweet Chariot”. I longed to visit the deep South and started several years ago. I have a deep love of Southern Folk Art. I took my grandson Brandon to the South when he turned 13.—Please listen to this—I just joined the Graves Family Association. I just learned that my roots go back to Georgia¬† and the 1700s, My family has actually been traced back!—And I know through Ancestry.com DNA testing that I am .01 percent African.—-Isn’t it amazing!
The love of the Deep South has been in our veins for over 300 years!–olRoff

Sweetie and the little Boy from Hell

Friday, August 15th, 2014

At times the gallery got pretty lonely. I quickly learned that Lodi was no place to sell folk art. Several years ago we decided it would be a perfect place to take a parrot to break the boredom. We decided on a baby African Grey, our Sweetie. I purchased two nice large cages (one for the gallery) and a tree made of Manzanita. All was going well. Sweetie was starting to talk. Customers loved her!—–

Then the lady with the son directly from hell came in. (I should paint the little boy from hell). Her son. about 6 or 7 found where I kept the broom I used in the shop. He took the broom and used the handle to try and knock Sweetie from the tree. The mother of the little devil watched, uncaring. I asked her and ask her to stop him. He landed a blow and I screamed at him, using profanity I had forgotten. The precious mother then informed me that I used undue correction and that she would be suing me. (Arleney just reminded me that I told the lady to get her ass out of the gallery–I probably did)

I gave the cage away and took the Manzanita tree down. I took Sweetie
home. She never was quite the same. After that,¬† she loved being inside her cage where she has showered us with a million blessings. She has told us a thousand times she loves us, told us good night, and good morning, and she has whistled and sang for us—–perhaps it is because she never had to worry about the little boy from hell again!———–olRoff

Does it matter?

Tuesday, August 5th, 2014
I have heard this lectured on by Dr Fine, an authority on Folk Art. I have discussed it many times. Here are my thoughts—–What makes a painting great and does it matter who the artist is? The answer to both is a resounding “Yes”. —And a signature matters greatly. Reverend Finster is a great folk artist and look at his colorful personality Look at Bernice Sims, a great folk artist who fought f…or Civil Rights. The Miracle Cross Gardens near Montgomery, Rev WC Rice–what a preacher and what a story—and I am not trying to push any artist but let us examine Steven Chandler, The Georgia Red Mud Artist–He is up and down and all over the place but he is a great artist and we will remember him and his work for a lifetime! —Such great artists and such stories that can be told as we, you and I, explain the painting and the story of the artist of the painting hanging on our walls. Yes, it does matter!!—olRoff

Jimmy Sudduth

Tuesday, August 5th, 2014

I was well acquainted with the Sudduth family and I loved them—and still do–that master of manhood, Jimmy Sudduth. Several years ago, in the mid 1990s I pulled into Fayette,¬† Alabama. An African American man told me to follow him, he would take me to Jimmy’s It was a little way out of town. When I arrived there, Jimmy and his cousin O.C. (Cebo) were at a small building which was sitting on the side of a hill. Jimmy’s home was below, near the bottom of the hill.—When Jimmy learned I ‘d came all the way from California, Jimmy pulled out his wallet and handed me a $20. bill and told me to “go get something to eat”. I insisted Jimmy take the $20. back. Jimmy then got into my pickup and we went onto Fayette. Jimmy was going to help me find a motel. The first motel he took me to was definitely an African American motel. I looked at Jimmy and asked him, “Does this look right with you?” Jimmy started laughing and replied, “No Sur”. He then showed me a motel just on the outskirts of Fayette—”For Whites”. We laughed so had. I took jimmy back to his home. I returned the next day for his paintings. A bond was made that was never broken. I love(d) Jimmy Sudduth!—olRoff

Fun in the gallery

Monday, August 4th, 2014

The gallery was often great fun. Today I was reminded of this incident. It really happened but for obvious reasons I will not use the name. Some of you older customers will recognize the incident and people involved. —–There was a window in the front room looking directly into the side room of the gallery. I had a well built lovely woman helping me occasionally. This particular day she was in the back somewhere. I saw one of my customers, a man in his late 50ties. staring into the window. I watched as he stood almost in a hypnotic state. What is wrong with him, I thought. I went to see what he was looking at. Well the lovely woman who was wearing slim low jeans and a blouse had decided to hang a painting directly in the side room above that window. She had climbed a short ladder and was fully stretched out against the window, while hanging the painting. Unknowingly she was making one older man very happy. He was watching her every move. I yelled at him. Oh was he embarrassed. –And believe it or not, I was talking with her today and she gave me permission to place this in Facebook!–Thank you_________!—olRoff